After The Island
by Himynameisawks
Summary: What happens to Courtney after she gets kicked off of Total Drama Island? A Playa de Losers fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, here it is. My Playa de Losers fic. I apologize for the possible out of characterness. I hope you like this. I, myself, am not a fan of how I ended this chapter. I didn't really know how to end. I promise the next one will be (if only slightly) better. I own not a thing. The usual stuff. If you review, you will be my moon and my stars. But I love all of you, regardless.**

**Enjoy, Loves.**

**-Himynameisawks**

* * *

"Courtney wait!" Duncan shouted after me as he ran down the dock of shame and up to the boat I was so _gracefully _thrown into. I swear Chris and Chef are _so_ out of line. Ugh, both of them are gonna pay big time for manhandling me. "I made this for you," he called.

"Duncan," I smiled. He threw a small object into my hands. I glanced down at my hands at a tiny skull carved out of wood. "Okay, this is really weird and creepy, but I love it. I'll never forget you," I yelled after him just as the ship captain- or whoever- started sailing me away.

Damn. Okay, Duncan may be totally gross and immature, but all the time we spent together this past week, I don't know, we really clicked. That's the only reason why I kissed him, if I could just justify my actions, he was nice. And Duncan isn't nice to anyone. I felt kind of special, you know? But I am being totally stupid though, I know. Duncan isn't my type, anyway. It was simply adrenaline. It wasn't _real_. Besides, Duncan is a player. I don't need that in my life, not again.

My little thinking trance was interrupted by my boat basically crashing into the dock. On the shore, there was a huge hotel with only a couple lights on. Otherwise, the whole place was midnight dark. What time is it? If everyone is asleep, then that boat ride was way longer than I thought it would be.

The ship "captain," if you could call him that, came out. And, what a surprise, it was chef. Man, this show creases me. Haven't I suffered enough for one day?

"You can either come out on your own, or I can carry you out, maggot." Chef snarled at me. Wow, rude much?

"I think I can manage on my own," I snapped. Okay, that may have been a _little_ harsh, but I was still pretty pissed. I mean, Harold, really? Well, Duncan did look really confused. And so did the other guys. Something must have happened. I walked up the dock and through the sand, and at the top there was a glass sliding door with a tiny porch light above it. It was kind of tacky to be honest. And I swear like every insect out of the ninth circle of hell was buzzing around that light. I carefully slid the door open and slipped myself and my suitcase inside. I found that there was a set of glass double doors down the hall from where I was standing. In the middle of the doors was a front desk. Chef crept in behind me and slammed the door, and I swear I thought it was going to shatter. Chef really needs to work on his anger issues. Anyway, he shuffled, ever so gracefully, to behind the desk. "You'll be in room 4C. That's the last room on the third floor. Your name will be written next to the room number. Now go, Private." Chef used his permanent yelling voice. As he handed me the rusty key, I heard him mutter, "Take a chill pill, my ass. Damn teenagers." I tried to stifle a laugh as I turned towards the elevator. I giggled to myself. That one was my bad. I don't know what came over me. Duncan just brings out that side of me. I hit the 3 button on the wall of the elevator and leaned against the red rose pattern of the further elevator wall.

It's really messed up how my whole elimination thing went down. I let out a deep sigh, and trudged down the hall to the last room. And sure enough, there was my name. And it was written in comic sans. Wow. Obviously no one working for this dumbass show has any sense of style. It's like everything here is like one cliché after another.

As I thrust the ancient key into the lock, I pushed the door open to reveal a fairly nice looking room. I'm actually impressed. I wonder if all of the rooms look like this. A glass sliding door, remarkably similar to the one I had entered through at the first floor, was at the other side of the room. So, I explored a bit. It's a balcony. From looking around, I guess there was one at every room, excluding the first floor, of course.

If you look really far, you can almost see the island. But, maybe that's just wishful thinking. It's weird that I've spent all my time on the island wishing Duncan would just leave me alone, but now that he's not here…

I shook my head. I'm being totally stupid. I can't miss Duncan. I can't like him. We probably live thousands of miles away. Canada is a big country. I might never see him again after this stupid show is over. I don't know what it is about him that is so enticing. He would really piss off my parents. That's a plus. Ugh. This is all stupid. I stormed off and nearly slammed the door. I plopped on my bed. Despite how upset I am right now, this bed _is_ super comfy. I guess now is a good time for sleep. Maybe things will be better in the morning. Doubtful, but I digress.

* * *

The next morning I woke up with a piercing headache. The sun cast a ray of light through the glass doors and onto the snow white carpet. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table next to me. It read 12:42. Shit. I've never slept this late before in my life. I hopped into the shower and did my hair in record time. I was about to leave my room when I noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor next to the door. I picked it up and it read:

_Dear Courtney,_

_I know we weren't close on the island since we weren't on the same team, but I would really like to get to know you if you want. Anyway, there's an all you can eat breakfast buffet until 11:30. _

_It wasn't fair what happened to you. People can be so totally mean. But, anyway, I hope you feel better soon, and come down to have some fun. There's really a lot to do here. I mean there's a game room, a pool, spa, and even a library. You seem like the type to do a lot of reading, I guess. Talk soon?_

_ Love, Beth xx_

Hm. Wait, what did she mean by 'people can be mean?' I would probably go socialize with the other campers eventually, but I don't know if I would talk to Beth. She doesn't seem like my kind of person. Now that you mention it, the people that I did talk to aren't here. Not yet, anyway. It might be a while until I have anyone I was close to, actually show up.

That thought alone made me want to turn around and climb back into bed, but my overbearing hunger quickly changed my mind. Chef's food really does take a toll on you after a while. Not like I ate it most of the time. In retrospect, that wasn't really a good decision. But, seriously, did you see that food? I'm not sure that half of what he served to us was even edible. That _had_ to be against the law_, _right?

I had to wander a bit before finally finding the dining room, and when I got there, it was completely empty. There was a pretty impressive chandelier hanging from the ceiling though.

Hm. Everyone must be outside. I really don't want to talk to anyone here right now, or any time in the near future, honestly. But, food. Damn.

I slowly and carefully slid open the glass door and slipped myself through it. Apparently, my sneaking technique had failed, because suddenly ten pairs of eyes were on me. I could feel my face flush deep red, and I managed an awkward wave before I shuffled as quickly as possible over to the food table. I picked up a bit of fruit salad and some chocolate Oreo dessert and nearly sprinted back to the elevator.

Okay, I am so not going to do that again. There's still one more day until challenge day, and I would have to wait and see if anyone remotely friend-ish got voted off. It's not that I wanted them to lose, but I guess I would feel a lot better if I had a friend here. Like Bridgette. She was the only real friend I made on the island, and, to be honest, I really miss her.

Even all the times I overreacted and screamed at her, at everyone, she was sweet to me.

Bridgette saw through all of it.

* * *

I set the paper plate I had taken from downstairs on my bedside table, and plopped on the crimson comforter. How the hell did this happen? I spooned a mouthful of Oreo into my mouth. Man, I forgot how amazing real food is. Besides our little… party Duncan and I threw with our stolen food, this is the best thing I've tasted in almost a month.

Still, an overwhelming cloud of depression loomed over me that not even chocolate could solve. I missed everything that you could possibly miss about a crappy summer camp. Tears stung at my eyes and threatened to fall, and screw up my mascara. The softness of the bed was now feeling extremely tempting. I laid on my side and fell asleep looking at the skyline.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: This Chapter. I really like how this chapter turned out. It took a lot of emotionalness out of me, and is quite angsty in some parts. But oh my lawd, I love this chapter. I had to get the subtitles on my netflix and stop every 3 seconds to get exactly what Chris said at the beginning of X-treme Torture. This took a lot of work, and I could not be happier about what I am posting today.(: **_

_**To answer a few questions and address things: **_

_**1. iceandfire105: Yes this is absolutely going to be a multichapter. Thank you for taking the time to put your input, it means a lot. **_

_**2. Brittany, when I saw that you reviewed and favourited this story, I fangirled a little bit, I am not going to lie. You are like one of the top people in the fandom. I got excited. And thank you so much**_

_**3. There's a bit of Spanish near the end. It's based off of Courtney being Latina. I'm not sure how factual that is, but that is always how I've seen her. **_

_**Okay so, heres the part where I say that I don't own anything, and all that jazz. I don't own the rights to total drama; nor do I own the rights to Love Letters to the Dead, the book that is mentioned. However, it is a great book. You should check it out if you get the chance. **_

_**To my readers; You guys are like the chocolate in my peanut butter cup. The background, and what keeps the rest together.**_

_**To my reviewers; You are the peanut butter. The filling, and the best part (:**_

_**That was a sucky analogy, but you get the point, I love you all. c: **_

_**Last thing: I apologize for how long this author's note was. Enjoy.**_

_**-Himynameisawks**_

* * *

I had spent the last two days in my room watching movies that I had rented from the library. They had a lot of good ones, surprisingly. I had already gone through Say Anything, The Breakfast Club, Easy A, and about ten bags of microwave popcorn.

At about 5:30, there was a soft knock at my door. Ugh. I really didn't feel like getting up. I let out a deep sigh and got up anyway. I opened the door to see a short, brown haired girl with braces. Beth.

"Can I help you?" I exhaled in a bored tone. I had tried to not sound as irritated as I actually was. However, it didn't really matter if anyone liked me; the competition was over, for us anyway.

"They show the new epithodeth here before they edit them; after dinner on challenge dayth. They get played after dinner, which ith," she looked at her watch, "Right now." The whole time Beth talked, she had this almost frightened-sounding voice, like she was scared that I would snap at any second.

I wonder if I had done something to scare her. It's not like I was _unstable_. I admit I was off the grid since I had got here, and I was a little depressed, but I wasn't going to hurt anyone. For God sakes I'm just a teenage girl. I am allowed to have a broken heart.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I spoke in barely above a whisper. "Just let me get my shoes."

As I followed Beth to the elevator, a deafeningly awkward silence lingered in the air surrounding us. Neither of us said a word until we got to the dining hall.

"I am really thorry about what happened, Courtney." Beth looked at me like my puppy had just died.

I tilted my head in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?" Beth's eyes widened, like a deer in headlights.

"You don't know?" She asked. I shook my head. "Oh." She stated flatly and walked inside the dining hall and took a seat next to Katie and Sadie.

I followed suit, wondering what she was talking about. By the time we got there, everyone was done eating. Oh well, not really a big deal.

A man in a moss green suit rolled in a television on a cart, like the ones they had in elementary school, and it was video day. Back then, the TV meant excitement, but now, it was like there was a piece of led inside my stomach. The man who I'd assumed worked for the hotel popped in a DVD.

The first scene was Chris. _Last time on Total Drama Island: The eleven surviving campers were put through Master Chief Hatchet's brutal boot camp. Duncan was the first to be sent to the brig by Major Harshness for disorderly conduct. Shocker._

I smiled at the thought of Duncan, and I felt my face get flushed, especially after the next part.

_What was a surprise was when by-the-book Courtney smuggled food to P.O.W Duncan. The two proceeded to pull a B and E to steal some PB and J and ended up K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Leshawna won her striped for the Gophers and the Bass smelt something fishy when Courtney was suddenly voted off. Confession cam revealed that it was Harold who tampered with the votes to get back at Duncan for torturing him, which seems kind of unfair. I mean, hello, he's a bully. That's what they do. Birds gotta fly. Fishes gotta swim, dude. Let a player play. _

My face turned ghost white. The ball of led in my stomach turned into white, fiery rage. I _needed_ to hit something, like now. I stormed out of the dining hall, and slammed the door so hard I thought it was going to fall off of its hinges. I was furious; at Harold, at Duncan, and at myself for even joining this stupid competition. Why couldn't I have trusted my better judgment and just stayed away from Duncan at all costs? Oh, that's right, because I am a total fucking idiot, that's why. Chris even said it himself. Duncan is a player. That isn't going to change.

* * *

I was too angry to wait for the elevator. I ran for the stairs, hoping that maybe running up three flights of stairs would get some of the anger out. When I got up to my room, I trashed it. You couldn't even recognize the room afterwards. I tipped the entire bed into oblivion, basically. I grabbed a pillow and screamed as loud, and as high pitched as possible, until my lungs gave out. Screams turned into angry sobs, and the angry sobs turned into silent cries, after my voice was no longer recognizable.

I wasn't crying because I was upset, or because I was sad. I'll admit that I was a little bit upset, but mostly, I cried because I was angry. And I cried because I was frustrated. It was like the first exam week of freshman year, all over again.

Through the heap of tossed around sheets and comforters, I managed to find my suitcase and unzipped it. Inside, there was a tiny makeup bag that contained a few packs of cigarettes and a lighter. On a good day, I never touched the bag. It sat, hidden, in my suitcase. But today, and all the bullshit that came with along, was not a good day.

After picking out one of the red labeled boxes and a lighter that matched, I then wandered to the little white refrigerator in the corner of the room. I took all of it out; every single bottle.

I took the cigarettes and the liquor, along with a pillow to sit on, and went out on the balcony. I brought a cigarette to my mouth, and brought it to life. After a long drag, I attempted to blow smoke rings, but to no prevail.

My mother always told me to talk about it when I was upset or stressed… But nicotine had always worked better for me.

I picked up one of the small bottles, I didn't even know what it was, and downed it all at once. The bright green liquid burned from my throat down to my stomach, and taste was barely tolerable. The taste didn't matter to me much. I just wanted this to not be happening. The painful truth was, no matter the amount of alcohol I consumed, this will have never _not_ happened. And I slammed another bottle.

For a second, it hit me that these hotel rooms were designed for us, the campers. So, why would they put a minibar into a hotel room for teenagers? I guess they either didn't care, or were really _that_ stupid. Nevertheless, it helped my situation, if only for a night.

I inhaled another drag and blew smoke towards the moon. The stars were out; it was a particularly clear night. A part of me wondered if Duncan was still awake, or if he was looking at the same stars. I shook the thought away, though.

I downed another bottle, finished my cigarette, and decided to go to sleep. I had a mission in store for tomorrow.

Revenge.

* * *

The next morning, I had a little bit of a headache, but not much of a hangover. I hadn't drunken all the much. Good, because I had to focus on the task at hand. How was I going to get back at Harold? So far, I had no ideas. I know whose help I needed. However, there was a slight issue that he was a lake away, back on the island. Duncan would have had a million ideas of how to mess with him. Thinking about Duncan made me even more destined for revenge. I could always just go up to him, and beat the shit out of him, but I decided otherwise; too easy. I needed to do something that hurt him physically, _and_ mentally. I had to mess with his mind, then later get to the physical part.

And I had the perfect idea. But, it was going to take a lot of patience, and that wasn't exactly something that I had a lot.

* * *

After a quick shower, I towel dried my hair, and dressed in a gray tank top and jean shorts. You see, I had a game plan.

My first stop was the library. I had a really long reading list that I very well hadn't started on yet. When I got there, I didn't even know where to start looking. I unfolded the list that I had been using as a bookmark. One title caught my eye; Love Letters to the Dead. It looked interesting, so I picked up, and heading to stop number two; outside to the pool. I seriously needed to tan. I'm going to start looking white pretty soon.

Plus, this was an opportunity to maybe let people know that I wasn't a ticking time bomb, and not going to explode. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely _loved_ being seen as intimidating. But I didn't exactly love the weird looks I was getting as of late.

So, I slid the glass door open, and slipped outside. No stares this time. I sat on the nearest folding chair to the door and started reading.

* * *

After about an hour and a half, I heard a quiet creek of the sliding door. When I looked up, he was standing there. I didn't know that Harold had gotten voted off; I hadn't stayed for the whole episode. When I saw him, flames of anger ignited inside of me, but I couldn't crack, not yet anyway.

I took a deep breath, and went back to reading, or tried to. I tried really hard to not let this get to me. It was really difficult.

Part of me resented getting involved with Duncan, or even meeting him; but the thought of not meeting him left me with a twinge of sadness inside. Nevertheless, I was furious at Harold. For making me lose a hundred thousand dollars, for one. But also, I hated him for giving me less time with Duncan. We hadn't really talked about what we were. I am so afraid that I was just a mere _fling_; that getting me was just a game, and he had won. That is what I hated Harold for the most.

* * *

After all of my methods of distracting myself from Harold's existence had failed, I took a deep breath, and escaped through the glass doors, and back to the elevator, and I went back up to my room. Suddenly, it hit me. Harold's room was the first room on the level above me. Our rooms were in the order that we had been eliminated; if Harold was eliminated after me, his room would have to be the next one.

With this new found information, I was able to form a brand new plan. I would have to avoid Harold at all costs for this to work, however. It shouldn't be too hard; except for on challenge days where they viewed footage. Mostly everyone showed up to those.

Firstly, I had to find out if anyone here knows how to pick a key lock. If that fails, I would have to wait a bit until Duncan gets eliminated. I'm not really sure what he actually went to juvie for, but I think he knows how to pick locks. I'd have to look into that; maybe I'd do an internet search, if all else fails.

Anyway, after the door gets unlocked, I would trash his room a little, or a lot. Teach him; no jodas con una Latina.

I looked at the clock on the table next to me, and realized that it was almost time for dinner to start. I put my wedge sandals and walked to the dining hall, using the stairs finally, filled with purpose in my heart.


End file.
